I talk too much.
I can't shut my mouth.
Speaking about things that are just going south.
Stupid problems,
that don't even matter.
Truth or death,
my friends might take the latter.
They have it so much harder,
so where am I to complain?
But I always do,
I always open my ducking mouth anyways.
And it's about stupid,
worthless issues.
That nobody should care about.
Honestly, I don't think they really care.
Maybe that care that comes with being friends,
but not the care that would stop me.
Because if I'm not left overs, why was I left to rot?
If I'm really liked, why am I the last picked of the crop?
If I'm important, why am I pushed away?
If my health matters, why am I never asked if I'm okay?
They don't care.
Why should they?
I'm not worth it.
And they're probably not here to stay.
But I wish they did care.
And I wish I didn't talk so much.
So that when I got home, I wouldn't beat myself up over it so much.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poetry[Trigger Warning, please be safe when reading] They aren't supposed to know. They aren't meant to read these poems that I'm writing. I've concealed them for a reason. -Shitty poems about how I feel-
